


Word Doodles: Asra

by WarlordFelwinter



Series: Devil Went Down to Faerun and Related Lore [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-01-20 19:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlordFelwinter/pseuds/WarlordFelwinter
Summary: backstory shit, i'm definitely not just procrastinating the next chapter of Devil Went Down to Faerun
Series: Devil Went Down to Faerun and Related Lore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578136
Kudos: 4





	1. Birthday Presents

"You look like her."

The boy didn't respond. He knew Desiree's mood wouldn't last long and it became shorter the more questions he asked. These quiet moments were rare and, honestly, he didn't like them. It was nice, in a way, for Desiree to hold him in her lap and talk about his mother. They were the only times she unlocked the special compartment in her trunk and showed him the scrapbook she and his mother had made. Memories of a woman he had never known. She was a stranger to him, so he didn't miss her. But her memory occasionally made Desiree soft, and for that, he appreciated her. But he knew it wouldn't last long and it just served to confuse him.

He flipped the page of the book to a charcoal drawing of his mother. Imogen.

Desiree hummed, carding her fingers through his hair. "Hmm… sort of," she said, looking over his shoulder at the picture. "She had blonde hair. Yours is starting to come in purple."

"Like Krishna," he said. The tiefling had joined the troupe a few days prior and he liked her already. She was softspoken and kind.

"Lighter than hers, but yes," Desiree said. "Who knows, maybe you'll start growing horns and a tail and we'll find out you've been a little devil this whole time!" She grabbed his sides and tickled unexpectedly.

He giggled, curling up and wiggling to escape her grip. In his effort, he accidentally kicked the book out of his lap onto the floor. Quickly, he scrambled over to it and picked it up.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding it out toward Desiree. She took it and stood up, walking over to lock it back up in her trunk.

"It's… fine," she said. "It's past your bedtime anyway." She had that tone in her voice again. Something tired and sad.

He left the tent, going to get a drink before bed. Deirdre caught him at the galley wagon and gave him a cup of water, hiding something else behind her back. She waited until he was done drinking before holding out a stuffed animal.

"Happy birthday, little beast," she said, ruffling his hair. "I made this for you."

"Wow," he gasped, grabbing it. "Thank you! What is it?"

She laughed. "Elephant."

"El-e-phant..." he repeated slowly.

"I will tell you about them sometime," she promised. "Huge animals. Live far from here."

"Oh, is it your birthday?" a new voice asked. He looked up to see Krishna. "Happy birthday!" she said. "How old are you?"

"Umm..." he thought for a moment, unsure.

"He's five," Lellada said, joining them. She put a finger to her lips and pointed toward Desiree's tent. She grabbed Krishna, pulling her away a bit.

"You're new, so it's not your fault, but we don't talk about his birthday," she said quietly, clearing trying to keep her voice low enough that the boy didn't overhear. "It's the day his mum died and Desiree doesn't like remembering that."

"That's hardly his fault," Krishna argued.

"It is time for you to sleep, little beast," Deirdre said, nudging him back toward Desiree's tent.

He nodded, yawning, and hurried back inside. Desiree was sitting on her bed, looking at something in her hands. It was a book, but not the same one they'd been looking at earlier, and she was looking thoughtfully at the cover of it. She looked up as he came in.

"What do you have there?" she asked.

"A elephant," he said, showing it to her.

"_ An _ elephant, darling," Desiree corrected automatically.

"An elephant," he revised, getting into his own bed. "Deirdre made it for me."

"That was nice of her," she murmured, an odd tone in her voice again.

"Can we get a elephant?" he asked, laying on his back and holding the stuffed animal above him, trying to imagine how it would look in real life. He wondered how big they were. "Deirdre needs a animal. She could make it do tricks!"

Desiree simply hummed, neither answering him nor correcting his grammar again. He decided it would be best not to press his luck. Lellada was right. Desiree always got particularly strange on his birthday and her moods were hard to keep up with. Instead, he just rolled over and snuggled down into the blanket, hugging his elephant.

The tent was empty when he woke up the next morning. That wasn't strange. Desiree was usually up early. The strange thing was what he found sitting next to his bed. It was on the floor, cross legged and watching him. He sat up, startled, and uncertain what to do. The figure was tall and lithe, with golden skin, light hair, and solid amber eyes. A large pair of wings were folded behind their back.

They smiled and spoke. A few musical words that meant nothing to the boy.

"Um… h-hello," he said.

They blinked and snapped their fingers. A warmth rushed through him. They spoke again, and he understood.

"Hello," they said. "My name is Maia."

"Hi," he said. "What are you? Where's Desiree?"

"She is awake. You, however, are dreaming. I am a deva, a Celestial. I'm here to guide you on your path in life."

"...why?"

"Celestial blood has decided to present itself in you," they said. "One of your ancestors was one of us." They put a graceful hand to their own chest. "Over time, that blood will give you all manner of abilities and I will teach you how to use them for good."

"Oh," he said, rubbing at his nose and trying to pretend that meant anything to him. "Will I get wings like yours?"

"Perhaps," they said, smiling. "It's difficult to tell so early." They blinked. "Ah. You're waking up. Farewell, for now, but we will speak again soon."

The boy woke up again and sat up, looking around.

Maia was gone and Desiree was sitting on her bed, pulling her hair back and tying it up. She looked over as he startled awake.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I saw a… Celestial," he said, slowly.

She stared at him. "You had a dream… about an angel," she said, unimpressed.

"They said I'm a little bit like them," he said. "And I might get wings."

"Right and I might be the queen."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "_ It's true! _" he said, speaking the language that Maia had gifted him. It came almost more easily to him than common, and Desiree looked startled, and then uncertain.

"Well… I suppose we'll see," she said, standing up. "Hurry up and get dressed."

It was then that he noticed the book sitting next to his bed. It was small and battered and colorful, with a picture of tarot cards on the front. He picked it up.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Consider it a birthday present," Desiree said.

"But… I can't read," he said.

"Maybe your angel can teach you," she said shortly, leaving the tent.

He sighed and opened the book, wondering if it at least had pictures. In the front cover, he found a folded slip of paper. He unfolded it and found a short letter, written in an unfamiliar handwriting. He folded it back up and got dressed, carrying the book and his elephant out of the tent to the fire where everyone had gathered for breakfast before they started to pack up. Krishna patted the spot next to her and handed him a plate of warm food when he sat down.

"Good morning," she said.

"_ Good morning, _" he replied, distracted, accidentally slipping into Celestial.

She blinked, surprised, and laughed lightly. "Where did that come from?"

"An angel taught me," he said.

"Oh! I suppose that explains why your hair is changing color. I thought you might be a tiefling, but if you've got an angel talking to you, you must be an aasimar."

"Aasimar?" he repeated, confused.

"Descended from Celestials," she explained. "Like how I'm descended from a devil." She gestured to her horns. 

“How do you know so much?” he asked. 

“I’ve read a lot of books,” she said, shrugging. 

“Can you read this one?” he asked, holding up the little tarot book. “Desiree gave it to me but I can’t read.” 

“I can teach you,” Krishna said. She took the book and looked at it. “This looks like a guidebook on reading tarot. Oh—!” As she opened it, the paper fell out. She unfolded it, her blue eyes quickly scanning the words. They widened slightly. 

“O-oh,” she said. “I don’t think I should have read this.” 

“What does it say?” he asked. 

“It’s for you, I think.” 

“But I can’t read!” he said, frustrated.

Krishna hesitated. She sighed and stood up, offering him a hand. He stood up, taking her hand and letting her lead him away from the fire. They walked down the path away from camp, toward the nearby creek, out of earshot of everyone else. 

“Why are you being so secrety?” he asked. 

“I just don’t think you want everyone overhearing this,” she said. “It’s a letter from your mother.” She sat down on a log on the bank of the creek and he sat next to her, confused. 

“My mum’s dead.” 

“I know,” she said. “It seems like she wrote it before you were born.” Krishna sighed and unfolded the letter again, clearing her throat. 

“‘Asra’,” she read. “‘Hopefully I still like that name in a month, or this is a letter to no one. More hopefully, you’ll never see this. But, as sick as I’ve been, I thought I’d write down a little something just in case we never meet. So, if you’re reading this, I guess you don’t know me. But I know you. I’ve known you for eight months now and I love you. And I know the troupe will love you. They’ll be your family just as they’ve been mine. Maybe you’ll even grow up to be a fortune teller! I’ll leave you my tarot book and cards, just in case you want to try. Whatever you do, I know you’ll be amazing. If we never meet, know that your mother loved you more than all the stars in the sky and wished only the best for you in all the world and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, my darling Asra. Love, mum’.” 

The boy said nothing as Krishna finished reading, for long enough that the tiefling put an arm around him in a hug. He leaned against her, uncertain how to feel. Rather than dwell on it, he thought instead about one part of the letter. 

“Asra,” he said. 

“Seems like that’s what she wanted to name you,” Krishna said. “That’s good, at least. You’ve got a name, after all. I feel a bit bad every time I just call you ‘kid’.” 

He shrugged. “I know when people are talking to me. That’s the point of a name, right?” 

“Still… it’s good to have something that’s yours.” 

He thought for a moment. “I like it,” he decided. 

Krishna smiled. “Well, then, Asra, I guess we should head back to camp. You keep ahold of this,” she said, handing him the book and letter. 

He folded it up carefully and tucked it back inside the cover, following Krishna back along the path into camp. He hurried to Desiree’s tent and found her inside, packing up. He put away his own things and helped her with the bedding. 

“Did… my mum leave her tarot cards?” he asked, quietly, as he picked up a roll of blanket to carry out to the caravan. 

Desiree tensed and then sighed. “No,” she said. “They disappeared after she died. I guess they were stolen. Why?” 

“She said I should have them,” he said. “In the letter in the book you gave me.” 

“Letter? What letter?” Desiree asked sharply. 

“In the book,” he repeated. “She wrote it in case we never met.” 

She stared at him for a moment. “Ah,” she said and turned away. “Right… well, the fact remains, they’re gone.” 

“Oh.” 

Desiree looked at him and walked over, taking the blanket bundle from him. She handed him his satchel and elephant. 

“Why don’t you go play while we pack up?” 

He frowned. “You don’t want me to help?” 

“It’s fine, just go have fun while the weather’s good, kid,” she said. 

“Asra,” he said. 

“What?” 

“My name’s Asra. That’s… that’s what mum said.” 

Desiree was quiet a moment and then nodded. “Fine. Asra.” She waved a hand toward the door. “Don’t get underfoot and if you’re not back in camp by midmorning, we’re leaving you behind.” 


	2. Best Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some snippets of Asra's friendship with Aria, ages like 10-15-20

“Hi!” 

Asra looked over, watching as a young elf clambered up onto the roof. She hopped up onto the balustrade with surprising nimbleness and sat next to him. She looked about the same age as him, with blonde hair and green eyes and freckled, suntanned skin. She was barefoot and wearing clothes that were too small for her. In her hands she held one of the pieces of paper that Asra had been scattering over the city from the rooftops. 

“Is this a circus?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Asra said. “You should come tonight, it’s going to be really cool.” 

“Can I join?” she asked. “I can do tricks!” Without waiting for a reply, she stood up on the railing and bent over, turning onto her hands and putting her feet in the air. She grinned upside down at him and stepped, on her hands, back onto the roof, doing a quick little dance. 

Asra laughed and she flipped back onto her feet, taking a bow. He clapped. 

“That was really good,” he said. “You can ask the ringmaster, I’ll take you before the show if you want.” 

She sat back down next to him on the railing. “Thanks! I promise I can be helpful too.” 

Asra reached into his bag and brought out the pastries he had swiped from a market stall for a snack. “Are you hungry?” he asked, offering her one. She took it without complaint and started eating, quickly. 

“My name’s Aria,” she said, through a mouth full of danish. 

“Asra. Do you live here?" he asked.

"In the city?"

"No, dummy, on the roof."

Aria punched him in the arm and he laughed. "Yeah. It's boring. I bet your life is much more fun, travelling around all over the place. What do you do in the circus?"

"I'm a fortune teller," Asra said. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out the battered old pack of tarot cards he'd bought at the last town. 

"Ooh! Read mine!" Aria said excitedly. 

Asra shifted back, dropping down onto the roof. He sat cross legged and started shuffling the cards. Aria sat across from him and he let her split the deck and pick her cards. Three, for the past, the present, and the future. 

He flipped the first one over. “Death.” 

“Um… that seems bad,” Aria said. 

“Not really,” Asra said. “It means endings. Change. Stuff like that. So, there was a big change in your past. Something ended and something new began?” 

“I ran away from home,” Aria said, nodding. 

He flipped over the present card. “The Fool. New beginnings. Right now, you’re at the start of a new journey, but you don’t have a plan. You’re carefree and optimistic?” 

She nodded. “I hope the next one is the circus card,” she said. 

Asra laughed. “There is no circus card,” he said, and flipped over her future card. “The Sun. That’s good! It means success and happiness. So you’re going to be happy with the end of this journey, even if it wasn’t what you set out to do.” 

“Oh, good!” she said, clapping. “That was fun! Is it real, or were you just being nice?” 

“It’s real,” Asra said. “I mean, I could have lied to you, I guess, but I didn’t.” He packed his cards back up and looked at the sky. It was beginning to warm with the light of sunset. 

He stood up. “We should go, if you want to talk to the ringmaster before the show.” 

Aria hopped to her feet, following him down from the roof. They walked out of the town together, Aria skipping and doing cartwheels the entire way and pestering Asra with endless questions about the troupe. He could tell when Desiree’s magic started to affect her when she fell quiet. He grabbed her hand, leading her into the woods. 

“Okay, here,” he said, stopping in the clearing. He had already been attuned to the circle and could see the troupe, but he knew it must look empty to Aria. That, and the magical dread pressing down upon her was making her want to pull away. 

“Trust me,” he said. “Say the word ‘moonshadow’.” 

“Uh… moonshadow,” Aria said, nervously. Instantly, her eyes widened and the fear was replaced by delight and awe. Asra laughed and led her into the camp. Everyone was doing last minute prep for the show, but they gave him curious looks as he passed with the young elf in tow. 

He took her to the big tent and went inside, spotting Desiree across the ring, helping Jardani and Tematea set up. 

“Desiree!” he called. 

She turned. “You’re back. Did you get rid of all the flyers?” 

“Obviously,” Asra replied. “And I found an acrobat.” 

“I found you, but whatever,” Aria said, stepping forward. She did a bow. “My name is Aria Zinlana and I would like to join your circus, please!” 

Before Desiree could ask, Aria bent, standing up on her hands. She shifted her weight onto one and did the splits, holding her other arm out. Asra couldn’t imagine how she had such good balance, but his arms were hurting just watching her. 

“Impressive,” Desiree said. “Are you self-taught?”

Aria flipped back onto her feet, grinning. “Yes,” she said.

“Do you understand what joining our troupe will mean?” Desiree asked. “This isn’t just a job, it will become your life. We’re a family, which means everyone pitches in.” 

“I can be helpful!” Aria said. 

“Good. Is there anyone here who will come after you? Who will miss you? I don’t like loose ends.” 

“No,” Aria said. “I have a family, but they’re awful. I ran away years ago and they don’t live around here. They won’t look for me.” 

Desiree smiled. “Then allow me to welcome you to the Moonshadow Troupe, Aria. Enjoy the show tonight.” 

* * *

“You nervous?” 

“No.” 

Asra leaned back, raising his eyebrows. “Liar,” he said. “You keep fidgeting. It’s a miracle I was able to get your eyeliner on straight.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, and then closed her mouth and tilted her chin up slightly when he held up the lip paint. 

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Asra said, taking advantage of Aria not being able to talk for a few moments while he painted her lips purple. “Tematea could drop you, or Lellada could accidentally light you on fire, or the audience could hate it—” 

Aria punched his leg and he laughed, leaning back. She pouted. “Sincerity time, okay?” 

Asra smiled, his demeanor changing. “You’ve been practicing this for like, what? Years? It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve performed with us.” 

“No, but this is  _ my _ show,” she said. “I want it to be perfect.” 

“It will be. Stop worrying,” Asra said, matter-of-factly. 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Diviner,” Aria said. Not her best, but her tone let him know that sincerity time was over.

Asra snorted and stood up, putting away Aria’s makeup kit. “You must be really nervous if that’s the best you could come up with. I don’t  _ need _ to see the future to know that there’s no point in worrying.” 

“How come?” Aria asked, standing up. She smoothed her costume and stood still while Asra checked to make sure her hair was secured. 

“Cause it’s way too late to worry,” Asra said, grinning as he heard Desiree announcing Aria’s act. He shoved her toward the back of the tent and ducked out of the front, running around the big tent and going inside just as Desiree stepped off into the darkness. He snuck through the crowd and grabbed a seat at the front where he knew Aria would be able to see him. 

* * *

“Roomies.” 

Asra shifted, opening his eyes as Aria entered his tent and tossed down her pillow and bedroll.. They hadn’t been forced to share since they were kids, and she hadn’t slept with him since she’d started dating Liliane the previous year. Another acrobalancer who had joined the troupe alongside the sword swallower, Eric. Asra didn’t want to think about him, though the pain in his throat was making that a bit difficult. 

“Liliane kick you out?” he murmured, rolling onto his side delicately. 

“Maybe,” she said, flopping down next to him. “You kicked Eric out so I figured you’d have room.” 

“I’d have to invite him in first to kick him out,” Asra muttered. 

Aria frowned. It was dark in the tent, but Asra knew neither of them had trouble seeing. She peered at him. 

“Sincerity time,” she said. “Are you all right?” 

“Sincerity time only works if you want to talk about yourself,” Asra growled. “You’re not allowed to use it against me.” 

“So you’re perfectly fine and that’s why you’re being so defensive?” she guessed. “What did he do?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Asra,” she said firmly. “You know I’m just going to keep asking. Did he force himself on you?” 

Asra groaned, burying his face in the pillow and taking a moment to gain some composure before relenting to Aria’s prodding. “Not exactly,” he said. “I just don’t see the point in fighting. He’s stronger than me and owns a lot of swords.” 

“You should tell Desiree. That’s not how things are supposed to be here.” 

“She won’t care.” 

“She’s your mother!” 

“She’s not my mother and she’s never cared about me once in my life,” Asra retorted. “She’ll tell me that I have to deal with it myself, that’s what she’s always done.” 

Aria was quiet for a moment. “Do you want me to deal with it?” 

Asra stifled a laugh into his pillow, trying to imagine the stocky acrobat taking on a man at least a foot taller than her. Not that he didn’t think she’d beat him. She almost certainly would. 

“That would just make it worse,” he said. “Just leave it alone, he’ll get bored with me eventually.” 

“Fine,” she said. “I don’t like it, but fine. Do you need help with those bruises?” 

Asra clenched his fist and a healing light flashed along his body, soothing the superficial injuries. “No.” 

“Show off.” 

He stuck his tongue out, slightly jarring his most recent piercing and making him wince. He had endeavored, over the past few years, after realizing how most people looked at an Aasimar, to make himself as unattractive as possible. Sharp. Broken up by harsh lines and metal. It didn’t seem to be working. 

“Why did Liliane kick you out?” he asked, trying to shift the conversation onto her.

“She didn’t, she just wanted some alone time. Unlike  _ some _ people, I’m a normal person in healthy relationship,” she said, baring her teeth in something that wasn’t a smile. 

“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” Asra asked, squinting at her.

“Not a chance, feathers.” 

“Can you let it go for tonight, at least?” he asked, his voice dropping against his will. He was exhausted and Aria harping on him about things he already knew was giving him a headache. 

Her expression softened and she sighed. “All right,” she said. She shifted over and kissed his cheek. “‘Night, weirdo. Love you.” 

“Love you too, dummy,” Asra replied, closing his eyes.


	3. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby's first murder

“So, what can I do for you?” 

Asra glanced over his shoulder as the door locked. He turned back toward the counter as the owner lowered her hand. He smiled and walked over, pulling flyers out of his coat. 

“Need you to spread some news for me. Discreetly.” 

She looked over the ad and laughed. “A circus? Why all the secrecy?” 

“Our trail’s a bit hot right now. Last town we were in someone got too close to the firebreather and tattled to the guard about our “lack of safety protocols”,” he said, making quotes with his fingers. “Trying to lie a bit lower than usual, but we’ve still got to make money. You understand.” 

“Of course,” she said. “Well, my services aren’t free, so take a look around the shop.” 

Asra looked around. It was a shop of magical trinkets. Nothing particularly impressive, but he could almost feel the aura of magic coming from behind her. Behind the curtained door leading further in. 

“Tell you what,” he said, “I’m in a good mood and I’ve got a purse full of coin, so why don’t you show me the  _ real _ stuff.” He glanced at the curtain and she smiled. 

She turned and pulled the curtain aside, gesturing to the backroom. Asra walked around the counter and through the doorway. The backroom was larger than it had appeared and packed with bookshelves, overflowing with artifacts. The stench of magic was overwhelming. 

“These things aren’t all guaranteed to be… legally obtained,” she said. “Though, you don’t seem the sort to be worried about that.” 

“What gave it away?” Asra asked, grinning. He walked around the room, looking everything over. She had labelled most of the artifacts with danger ratings, from “Benevolent” to “Cursed” to “Has Killed Before and Will Do It Again”. It was all interesting, but nothing was catching his eye. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

Item after item caught his eye, but the moment he stopped to inspect something, he would feel a tug somewhere behind his ribs, calling him further into the room. Eventually he found himself in the back corner, in front of a particularly crowded bookshelf full of battered, unimpressive objects. All things he would have turned his nose up at. But he found himself drawn to a small silk bag, dark purple in color with a silver crescent moon embroidered on it. He picked it up, recognizing it as a tarot bag, and opened it, pulling out the deck. 

He almost dropped it, as dozens of voices started speaking at once, startling him with a cacophony of noise in the quiet room. It wasn’t something he heard. The room around him was still as quiet as it had been. After a moment, the chattering voices seemed to realize he was there and quieted down enough for Asra to focus on the tarot deck. 

The cards were beautiful and immaculate, with colorful painted scenes. He paused on The Moon, taking in the art. 

_ the Knight of Swords has found us _ , a voice whispered. He glanced at the shopkeeper, but she hadn’t spoken and was organizing one of the shelves across the room. He looked back down and flipped through a few more cards, pausing on The Magician. 

_ we’ve been waiting for you _ , a different voice murmured. 

The Empress.  _ ever since we lost the Page of Wands _

Asra frowned and quickly shuffled through the cards until he found the Page of Wands and he stiffened, eyes widening. There was a woman rendered on the card; a beautiful woman, with a kind smile and blonde hair. Asra recognized her, though he had never seen a picture of her in color. No voice spoke to him as he looked at the card and he wasn’t sure what he had expected. To hear his mother’s voice in his ears? 

He flipped through the cards again, almost frantic now, searching for the Knight of Swords. Something almost like a nervous laugh escaped his throat when he found it, and stared down at a painted rendering of himself. Stylized, but detailed enough that he knew it couldn’t be anyone else. 

He exhaled slowly, uncertain how to feel. He stuffed the cards back into the bag and swallowed, taking a few moments to regain his composure before he turned around. 

“Where did you get these?” he asked, walking back over to the shopkeeper. 

She looked at the bag. “Mm… I can’t honestly remember,” she said, and he didn’t think she was lying. 

“How much?” he asked. 

She eyed him for a moment. “They don’t cost gold,” she said. “If you really want those cards, it’ll cost you something else.” 

Asra groaned. “Fine,” he said, starting to take his coat off. 

“Oh! No, not that,” she said quickly, waving her hands. She snapped her fingers and a roll of parchment appeared in her hand, with a red feathered quill. “I meant your soul.” 

Asra stared at her, slowly pulling his coat back on as he tried to figure out if she was joking or not. “Seriously?” 

“Mmhmm,” she said, spreading the parchment out on the top of a nearby display case. “That’s it, no other conditions. You just sign here, you get the cards, and we’ll get your soul when you die.” She held the quill out. 

Asra laughed. “Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the quill. He didn’t know what sort of pleasure she was getting from this little charade, but he didn’t really care either. All he wanted were those cards, and she was giving them away for free. 

As he took the pen, he felt something in the back of his mind. An instinct of panic or disapproval. Feelings that weren’t his own. He pushed them away. 

“Oh, be sure to sign in blood,” she said. 

Asra pulled a dagger out and sliced one of his palms open. “You should consider joining the circus,” he said, letting the quill absorb enough blood for him to scratch out a signature. “Your taste for the dramatic is impeccable.” 

She snapped again and the paper vanished. “That’s that, then,” she said. “Enjoy the cards and I’ll be sure to get the word out about your show.” 

Asra pocketed the deck, smiling. “You should come by. I’ll give you a reading on the house. Or maybe I’ll charge you your soul,” he said, laughing, as he left the shop. 

* * *

“Something’s changed.” 

Asra looked up as he gathered his cards and put them back in the bag, quieting the voices murmuring at him. He didn’t want to hear Desiree’s secrets. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. 

“I can hear the coins jingling in your purse,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is the third night I’ve seen you rake in a frankly ridiculous amount of money.” 

“I’m not going to share, if that’s what you’re asking. We agreed I get to keep the money I make off readings,” Asra said, tucking the deck into his coat. Desiree’s eyes tracked the movement and widened. 

“What was that?” she asked sharply. 

“My… tarot cards?” 

“No. I’ve seen your tarot cards. That wasn’t them. Show me,” she said. 

Reluctantly, Asra pulled the bag back out of his coat and showed it to her, snatching his hand back when she tried to grab them. 

“Hands off,” he snapped. 

Desiree stared at him, taken aback, and something came into her eyes, like recognition. She sighed. “Where did you find them?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Asra said, again. Maybe if he said it enough, she'd leave him alone. 

“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “I recognize that bag and I recognize that look on your face. It’s the same look Imogen got anytime someone got near those cards.” 

Asra tilted his head, suspicions confirmed. “I found them in the shop of a magical item fence a few weeks ago. They’re…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, not sure how much Desiree knew about his mother’s cards. He didn’t think she would necessarily care that he had cards that would whisper peoples deepest darkest secrets in his ears, but he didn’t want to risk it. 

“They’re very good cards,” he said eventually. 

“Evidently, or you’ve gotten better at lying,” Desiree said. “Either way, I suppose it’s reassuring to know those are back where they belong.” 

Asra smiled, walking past her further into camp. It was somewhere near dawn, but he could smell dinner over the fire and his stomach was growling. Before he could get there, he was grabbed and shoved up against one of the caravans. He grunted, looking down at Eric. He was still in costume, with a sword at his side. 

“Have a good night, angel?” he purred, one hand dropping to Asra’s hip where his purse was, feeling the heft of the gold he’d made tonight.

“Until now, yeah,” Asra replied, trying to wriggle out of his grip. 

“Doesn’t seem fair to keep all of it, does it?” 

“You get your share of the ticket sales, just like everyone else,” Asra growled. “ _ My _ money is  _ mine _ .” 

Eric laughed. “When did you grow fangs, angel?” he asked, pulling Asra away from the caravan just enough to slam him back into it. “You know how this goes.” 

Asra’s vision swam and for a brief moment he resigned himself to a rough night. 

Even through the silk bag, he could almost hear the Arcana screaming at him. Guided by some instinct that was not his own, he grabbed Eric’s hands where they held his coat. He shoved him back and fire lashed out, heatless and radiant to Asra’s hands. Eric screamed in pain, stumbling back and bending over his burned wrists. 

Asra grabbed the hilt of Eric’s sword, dragging it from the sheathe as he moved backward. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the man demanded. 

“Everyone has a breaking point,” Asra snarled, with a manic grin, something dark bubbling up inside him, warping his voice slightly.

Eric looked up at him and startled backward, bumping into another caravan. In the flickering firelight, Asra watched as wings unfolded from his shadow, ragged and skeletal. He bared his teeth and slammed Eric back up against the caravan, ramming the sword through his chest. 

“Guess you just found mine,” he hissed, watching the light drain from his eyes. He stepped back, pulling the sword out and letting Eric’s body fall to the ground. 

He turned around and found that he had an audience. The light of his magic, or Eric’s scream, had attracted the troupe who were all staring at him in varying degrees of shock. Not all of them seemed surprised by what had happened, more startled by whatever change had come over Asra. Aria stepped forward, looking at the bloody sword warily before her eyes flicked to the wings. 

“Asra…?” she asked cautiously. 

He relaxed and felt that dark excitement drain out of him. The wings folded away, disappearing. He turned around and crouched, stealing Eric’s sword belt. He affixed it to his own waist and cleaned the blade off and sheathed it, before looking at Aria and clapping his hands once and holding his arms out. 

“Who wants to help me hide a body?” 


	4. Bardic Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean to make all the chapter titles begin with b but now it's a theme

“Asraaaa~” 

Asra didn’t react immediately, listening to the way his name was drawn out on that now familiar tongue. He glanced to the side as the bard caught up to him. Kealii Malo and his two bandmates had joined the troupe unexpectedly a few weeks prior. Asra hadn’t been surprised to see him at the show, after the look on his face when he’d seen Asra in town. He  _ had _ been surprised when the three of them had shown up again the next day, asking if they could join. 

He was still convinced Desiree had only said yes because she wanted to see Asra fidget, and he was determined not to. It was obvious that Kealii was infatuated. Not the first person, and he wouldn’t be the last, and Asra wasn’t particularly interested in becoming someone else’s toy. A few years had passed since Eric had “left”. That was how the troupe talked about it, if he ever came up. Asra had trained, since then, using his stolen sword and learning magic at the behest of the Arcana. Not to mention the raid by a city guard that had led to Malbec. He had already been good with knives, but he had gotten particularly precise lately. 

He wasn’t going to let himself be used ever again. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with this. Long days on the road were boring. There were worse ways to spend them than watching a bard desperately try to come up with a compliment that would make him smile. 

This time Kealii had a flower. A violet. Nearly the same color as his slanted eyes, framed in snowy lashes. He was, perhaps, the cutest hopeful suitor Asra had ever had. With soft features and dusky, freckled skin. 

Still. Bards were, generally, too full of themselves. Asra looked forward to taking him down a peg. 

His eyes lit up when Asra took the flower and his mouth opened, preparing to make some poetic remark. Before he could, Asra nodded his thanks and bit the flower off the stem. 

Kealii halted in his tracks, mouth still partially open. Asra kept walking, tossing the stem over his shoulder and trying to keep his composure. He desperately wanted to turn around, but he kept his head forward, stomach starting to hurt with repressed laughter. 

Aria caught up to him after a few moments. “I think you broke him,” she said quietly. 

“Good,” Asra said, laughing softly. “How strong do you think his resolve is?” 

Her eyes widened. “Oh, you’re terrible,” she said, smacking his arm as she realized he was having fun. 

“Says the woman who got three free, ludicrously expensive, meals out of Liliane before finally agreeing to date her? I learned from the best.” 

Aria laughed. “The difference is that I had to be careful. Lili would have given up. Everyone knows bards don’t have any shame. You’ve fucked yourself, now.” 

“Probably,” Asra agreed, “but did you see his lute? That wasn’t cheap. He’s got money, I wonder how much he’ll spend on me.” 

“You’re awful,” Aria said, but she was laughing. 

* * *

“Lovely evening, don’t you think?” 

Asra didn’t reply as Kealii sat down next to him. Nearly a year of this, he thought, honestly amazed that Kealii still bothered. To be fair, it wasn’t as though Asra had ever turned him down. He was perfectly aware that all the jewelry he was wearing at the moment were gifts from the bard. He accepted everything he was given and gave nothing in return and he really wondered how sane Kealii was that he kept trying. 

This time, he was handed a bottle of wine. Dark, with a label that read Empyrean Vineyard. 

“Aria told me elderberry was your favorite,” Kealii said. “This place is, by all accounts, the  _ best _ vineyard in the country and this was not easy to come by.” 

Asra popped the cork out and took a drink, closing his eyes briefly. Did he pull the bottle away more slowly than he needed to, and run his tongue across his lips to catch a stray drop, just because he could feel the way Kealii’s gaze tracked the motion? Perhaps. 

He hated that Kealii was right. This was the best wine he’d ever had in his life. He opened his eyes and raised the bottle slightly toward Kealii, a silent gesture of thanks, and then stood up and walked away from the fire. He could hear a few laughs behind him and knew they were directed at Kealii. No one could figure out why he was wasting his time. He also knew Kealii wouldn’t care. The bard had more unearned confidence than a convention of self-taught poets. 

On his way back to his own tent, he stopped at Aria’s, ducking inside without a warning. 

“Hey,” he snapped. 

Aria looked up from where she sat, straddling her half-naked girlfriend. “Do you mind?” 

“Hullo, Liliane, I won’t be a moment,” he said. 

Liliane dropped her head back onto her pillow, waving her hand in a gesture for him to get on with it. He returned his gaze to Aria and held up the bottle. 

“You need to stop giving that bard tricks,” he said. 

Aria smiled, looking not even remotely guilty. “He’s nice!” she said defensively. “You need to lighten up, you two would be really cute together.” 

“Just stop helping him, he’s bad enough on his own,” Asra said. 

“Fine, fine. Now would you kindly get out?” 

He ducked back outside and walked back to his own tent, flopping down on the pile of plush pillows he had collected. He kicked his boots off and pulled his tarot cards out. 

The Arcana was unusually quiet as he took the cards out of the bag, for once not muttering unwanted, uselessly vague advice at him. He shuffled the cards quickly and tossed them onto his blanket, pulling one at random as he took another swig of wine. 

The Hanged Man. Reversed. Indecision, stalling. 

He drew another. 

Death. Reversed. Resistance to change. 

He frowned and drew another. 

The Tower. Reversed. Fear of change. 

“I’m sensing a theme,” he muttered.

Another. The Hermit. Reversed. Isolation, loneliness. 

Another. He was getting annoyed now. The Magician. Reversed. Manipulation. 

“Alright,” he said, sharply, and drew a final card. 

The Lovers. 

Upright. 

Asra rolled his eyes. “Is that why you’re being so mum all of a sudden?” he groused, ignoring what he knew. Tarot was instinct. Interpretation. But it was easier to blame it on the cards. “Taking his side now, are we? Remember whose cards you are, I could easily toss you into a fire.” 

He gathered them back up, not missing The Tower’s voice muttering,  _ all walls come crashing down eventually _ , as he packed them away. 

* * *

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.” 

Asra paused when he heard Rosemary’s voice on the other side of the caravan. In the firelight that shone underneath, he could see three shadows playing on the grass. He leaned against the caravan, content to eavesdrop. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kealii said, in a tone that said the opposite. “I’m always in my senses.” 

“Is that what you call spending hundreds of gold hoping a con artist will fall in love with you?” Bayle asked. 

“He’s not…” Kealii began softly, and then faltered. 

“He is and you walked right into that trap, pockets full of coin,” Bayle said sharply. 

“Be nice,” Rosemary chastised. 

“No,” Bayle replied. “He’s been a dumbass and he deserves to know it. A year. A  _ year,  _ Kealii. You understand how insane that is, right? He barely even looked at you!” 

“I get it!” Kealii snapped. “You’re right, I’ve come to my senses, so can’t you just drop it?” He stalked away from them, breezing right past Asra without noticing him. Rosemary let out a quiet, distressed, noise and chased after him. Bayle took a few steps around the caravan and stopped. His nose twitched and he turned, looking at Asra, eyes narrowing slightly. 

Asra said nothing, pushing himself away from the caravan and walking around Bayle with a lazy wave. He headed down the sandy trail away from camp toward the beach. As he walked, he heard little footsteps running to catch up to him. 

“Where are you going?” a small voice asked and he looked down to see Bramble and Briar, the conjoined twins. He smiled. 

“Down to the water, do you want to come?” he offered, holding his hand out. Briar took it and they walked together down the path. 

The twins had been with the troupe for a few years now, along with their fae guardian, though Hazel was nowhere to be seen at the moment. The twins spent enough time with Asra for him to be trusted alone with them. They had gotten bigger and happier, a far cry from the odd family he had found stealing from Deirdre’s snares that winter and invited back to the fire. 

Asra liked the twins. There was something about children that always made him smile. They were better than adults. Innocent. They didn’t lie, they had no instinct to be cruel. 

_ Unlike you _ , a voice said in his thoughts. Not a voice he could blame on the Arcana, or the celestial that hadn’t spoken to him in years. He shook himself, watching as Bramble and Briar pulled away from him and set off chasing fireflies down the edge of the forest. After a moment’s hesitation, Asra ran after them, laughing as he joined in the game. 

Distracted as he was, stalking the bugs along the edge of the sand, he didn’t notice his company until he nearly tripped over him. 

To be fair, Kealii didn’t seem to notice either, as he had been staring out over the dark water, completely lost in thought until Asra slammed into him, nearly knocking them both down. 

“Oh, sorry—” Kealii said, breaking off as he looked at Asra. A few things flickered through his expression, before it settled on uncertainty. 

Asra held his gaze for a moment.  _ Con artist _ , Bayle’s voice said in his head, harsh and truthful. Asra held up his closed hands and smiled, opening them and letting his collection of fireflies go, watching the way Kealii’s eyes widened, the flickering lights reflecting against the violet. 

There was a warmth in his chest, in his throat, and he realized how close they were. The warmth tightened and dropped like a rock into his stomach as Kealii’s gaze lowered from watching the fireflies, returning to Asra. He restrained the reaction and turned away swiftly, barely keeping himself from running as he hurried back up through the woods, leaving the sound of the ocean behind him. 

* * *

“Roomies.” 

Asra looked up as Aria ducked into his tent, tossing her bedding down next to him and quickly snuggling under it. It was a particularly cold evening, despite the warm climate, and Asra wasn’t surprised when she wriggled under his arm, intent on stealing his warmth. 

“Liliane catch you stealing her money again?” he guessed. 

“That was  _ once _ and  _ no _ ,” Aria said. “She was asleep already and I didn’t want to wake her up.” 

“Ugh, gods, when did you become so sappy?” Asra asked and Aria shifted, punching him in the stomach. 

“Jealous,” she said. 

Asra didn’t laugh. He wasn’t jealous, just out of sorts. It had been a month or so since he had overheard Kealii’s conversation with his bandmates and the bard had essentially been ignoring him since then. Asra wasn’t sure why it was bothering him so much. He shouldn’t care. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? To be left alone. And yet... 

_ You just miss the gifts, _ he told himself, and that little voice in his head reminded him what he was. A liar. A con artist. But who was he lying to? 

“Is there something wrong with me?” 

Aria laughed. “You’re gonna have to narrow that down, I could go on all day.” 

He didn’t laugh, and hesitated. “Sincerity time,” he said softly. 

She shifted, rolling onto her side to look at him. “Okay,” she said, her tone changing. “What’s going on?” 

“Why can’t I…” He faltered, wishing he hadn’t started this conversation, but it was a question he didn’t have to finish. Not for her. 

Aria, who knew him too well, found his hand in the dark and held it. “You’re scared,” she said. “And history has taught you that that fear isn’t unfounded. Risk is scary, but sometimes it’s worth it and there’s no way to know unless you try. Your mind’s just trying to keep you safe, that’s all. You’re not broken.” 

“What if I lost my chance?” 

“You might have,” Aria said. “I doubt it, but you might have. You’ll know better next time.” 

He groaned quietly, frustrated, and Aria laughed softly. She wrapped her arms around him. 

“Come here, goofus,” she said. “You’re fine, I promise. You’re gonna wake up tomorrow and you’re gonna go tell him how you feel.” 

“If I look at him twice, I think Bayle might kill me.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re quicker than him, but it’ll be fun to find out.” 

Asra laughed, the weight in his chest easing a bit. Aria always had that effect on him. 

“Can I just say,” Aria began, her tone teasing, “I knew you were dense, I didn’t think you were  _ so  _ dense that it would take you literally an entire year to realize you were in love.” 

“Oh, shut up. I am not in love,” Asra snapped. “I’m bored and horny and he’s the only cute one here.” 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

“Keep going and you’re sleeping outside.” 

* * *

Asra hummed, wringing water out of his hair as he ducked into his tent. The song died in his throat as he realized something was off. He straightened up, frowning, trying to figure out what had given him that feeling as he dropped his coat and shirt onto his bed. It was that motion that led his eye to the folded note on his pillow. 

“Hm.” 

He picked it up and unfolded it, catching the spring of lilac that fell out. He held the flower to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent as he scanned the page. It was a poem, short and simple, written in a slightly stumbling voice and uncertain hand. Not what he had come to expect from a professional bard, but it wasn’t the poem itself that gave him pause. It was the language. 

“Sneaky bastard,” he murmured, as he realized why Kealii had been ignoring him for the past few months, always with his nose in a book. He had taught himself Celestial. 

Asra reread the poem a few times, uncertain how to feel. He hadn’t followed Aria’s advice, hadn’t spoken to Kealii. There was something about the bard that made him feel… weak. Uncertain. It was a strange feeling that he instinctively tried to avoid, trying to build those walls back up. But The Tower was right, and he knew it. 

Familiar footsteps walked past his tent, hesitating only slightly before continuing on. Asra felt those walls crash down around him as he pocketed the poem and tucked the flower behind his ear, stepping outside. 

He caught up to Kealii and put a hand on his shoulder. The bard startled and turned around, eyes widening. His gaze flicked down Asra’s bare chest, still damp from his bath in the river, lingering at his hip for longer than was decent, before he forced it back up to Asra’s face. He noticed the flower and the smile that appeared on his lips was cautious and hopeful. 

But Asra couldn’t help teasing him just a bit more. 

“It occurred to me, I usually give free readings to new troupe members, but I never gave you yours,” he said. “Want to know your future?” 

Kealii blinked, clearly taken aback, but he recovered quickly and smiled. “I’d love to,” he said. 

Asra ran his hand down Kealii’s arm from his shoulder, taking his hand and leading him back toward his tent. He didn’t miss Aria’s whistle as she walked past, but he ignored it. He ducked inside, tapping the piece of woven driftwood that hung from the ceiling and imbuing it with a warm light. He sat down, cross-legged, on his pillows, and gestured for Kealii to sit across from him. 

He began shuffling his cards, not missing The Lovers’ amused tittering in his ears. He refrained from focusing too hard on Kealii, not wanting to delve into his secrets. As he moved to deal out a few cards, Kealii’s hand on his own stopped him. 

“Can I ask you something, first?” 

Asra looked at him and inclined his head slightly. Kealii’s expression was carefully guarded, not betraying anything, and Asra found himself more drawn to the way his hair was falling over his shoulder. Long, almost white, not quite braided, leading his eye to the loose linen shirt that showed far too much skin. How did he manage to look so effortless? He tore his gaze away, back up to that soft-angled face. 

“Where do we stand?” he asked. “You and me, I mean. It doesn’t matter, I suppose, not anymore. I mean, I’m not trying anymore, if you’re not interested, but you’ve not made it abundantly clear one way or the other—” His voice was uncharacteristically stammering, bereft of its usual melodic flow. 

Asra cut him off, grabbing his head and kissing him, only for a moment before leaning back. Kealii looked a bit dazed and swallowed. 

“Oh,” he said softly and it seemed to be all he could manage.

Asra tipped his head, smiling. “Look at that,” he murmured, in Celestial. “I’ve made you speechless.” 

Kealii recovered and returned the smile. “A rare feat, I assure you,” he said, replying in the same language. His pronunciation was stumbling and Asra couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his throat. 

“Your accent’s terrible,” he said, switching back to common. He pulled Kealii into another kiss before he could defend himself. 

“Did you actually bring me here to read my fortune?” Kealii asked, breathlessly, bracing his hands on Asra’s thighs, chasing the kiss as Asra leaned back. 

“Absolutely not,” Asra said, falling backward onto the pillows and dragging Kealii down on top of him. 

Asra stretched, taking a moment to wake up before he opened his eyes. He could hear the sounds of people moving around in the camp, strangely muffled as noise always was outside a tent. Closer, he could hear soft, steady, breathing that was not his own. The touch of a hand on his chest made him open his eyes and he turned his head, surprised that Kealii was still there. Some part of him had expected him to sneak out in the middle of the night, now that he’d gotten what he wanted.

Kealii looked like he had been awake for a while and he met Asra’s gaze, returning his surprise with a smug smile. 

“You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?” 

That smile widened and Kealii shifted closer, snuggling up against him, his fingers idly tracing the lines of Asra’s tattoos. 

“Maybe,” he said. 

Asra huffed and buried his nose in Kealii’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He smelled like flowers. “I suppose you’ve earned it.” 

“You’ve certainly made me work for it.” He was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t wear you down, did I? I hope you didn’t do this just to shut me up.” 

Asra laughed. “If I did, it didn’t work,” he said. “If I wasn’t interested, I would have told you so, don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to show me you were different than every other asshole desperate to bag an aasimar. And then you wasted three months of your life learning a completely useless language just to impress me.” 

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but Asra wasn’t ready to admit that the reason he hadn’t given in sooner was because he’d been afraid. 

“If it impressed you, then it wasn’t useless,” Kealii said, in Celestial, and Asra laughed again. 

“We need to work on that accent,” Asra said. 

“Later,” Kealii purred, shifting up to give Asra a proper kiss. He hummed, leaning back slightly with a smile. “I could get used to waking up like this.” 

Asra didn’t reply with words, but he thought, as he closed the space between them again, that he could probably get used to this too. 


	5. Borealis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been cold here

The Festival of Lights. It was an apt name, Asra thought, as he walked through the market square. It had been completely decked out with lanterns and magic lights, painting the snow in warm colors. The plaza was filled with stalls decorated with colorful fabric, selling warm food and drink. There were performers and a menagerie of tundra beasts that milled around freely, watched by druids. 

It was a wintertime carnival and it felt completely bizarre to be a visitor. 

“This was a great idea, Kealii!” Aria crowed as she skipped past, holding two mugs of hot cocoa. Asra wasn’t sure if one was for Liliane, or they were both for Aria. 

Kealii elbowed Asra in the ribs gently. “Smile,” he coaxed. “I know you’re having fun.” 

“I’m cold,” Asra complained, tucking his face into his scarf. “You know I hate the snow.” 

“You hate everything, though,” Kealii said, linking their arms together and heading toward the stall selling cocoa. He bought two mugs, handing one to Asra. 

“I don’t hate you,” Asra said, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. “Although that might change.” 

“Aww, I don’t hate you too,” Kealii said, rolling his eyes. “I thought you all deserved a vacation. Isn’t it beautiful?” 

He was looking out over the plaza, watching the way the lanterns bobbed in the fountain, casting a dancing, watery glow over the stones. It had begun to snow again, large flakes falling slowly, taking on the colors of the lanterns as it drifted down. Kealii’s eyes were wide with delight, violet filled with a hundred other colors. His breath crystallized in the air in front of a soft, awed smile. 

Having grown up on the coast, Asra wondered how many times Kealii had seen snow. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, not looking at the snow or the lights. Kealii looked up at him and smiled, standing up on his toes to give Asra a kiss. He dropped back down and before either of them could say anything, something cold and wet slammed into the side of Asra’s head, exploding and showering them both in snow. 

Asra wiped the snow off his face, recognizing the cackle he heard, not surprised to see Aria doubled over in laughter. He handed his cocoa to Kealii and scooped up a large handful of snow, pelting her with it while she was distracted. 

A shriek of laughter caught his attention and he turned to see Bramble and Briar playing a similar game with some of the resident children of the town. Cautiously, Neela and Leena joined in, teaming up with the other twins against the townsfolk. 

Asra scooped up another handful of snow and packed it extra tight, flinging it at the back of Felix’s head, whistling innocently when he spun around. 

It wasn’t long before the entire troupe was involved, dancing carefully around the lanterns and bemused townsfolk as they played. The Lady of the town, who had been making her way around the Festival making sure everyone was enjoying themselves, watched in curious amusement. Asra could only imagine what she thought about this traveling band of strangers flinging snow all around her plaza. 

The aurora put a stop to it, drawing everyone’s attention to the sky. 

“Oh, wow,” Kealii said softly, staring up at the twisting lights. 

“Everyone light your lanterns!” the Lady called and, around them, the townsfolk lit small flames into paper lanterns, letting them go into the sky. As the little colorful lights floated up to join the stars, Kealii suddenly slung his lute around into playing position and started playing. 

“I taught myself a few of this regions traditional wintertime carols,” he said, conspiratorially, to Asra. He walked toward the center of the plaza, Bayle and Rosemary joining in, quickly surrounded by a choir of townsfolk singing along. 

Asra watched him, his chest feeling oddly tight and warm. 

Aria leaned against his side and he reflexively wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “He’s really good, isn’t he?” she asked. 

Asra nodded, hardly noticing the smile on his face, until Kealii turned and caught his gaze, and it widened. The bard grinned and tilted his head back, letting his voice join with the choir. 

Aria giggled. “You should see yourself,” she teased. 

Asra grinned. “Why? Because I look flawless in this fur coat? I’m aware.” 

“No, because you look like a complete lovestruck doofus,” she said, laughing. “I’ve never seen you look so moony.” 

“Go away,” Asra said, giving her a shove as Kealii walked back over. Aria hurried off, still cackling to herself. 

Kealii looked like he was preparing to say something teasing, but before he could, Asra pulled him into a deep kiss. Kealii returned it enthusiastically. 

“Oh, wow, what did I do to deserve that?” he asked, leaning back, his arms around Asra’s neck. 

Asra opened his mouth to reply, something witty and deflective. But his mouth betrayed him. It was Celestial that came out, not the language he intended to speak in and not the words he intended to say. 

“I love you.” 

Kealii stared at him, startled. For a moment that felt far too long, he looked like he didn't know how to respond, and then he laughed, lightly. “You look like a spooked rabbit,” he said, giving Asra another kiss. “I love you too.” 


	6. Buried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're caught up

Asra stared into the empty bottle of wine, clicking his tongue in disappointment, not sure when he had run out. The bartender heard the noise and glanced over. 

“Getting late,” she commented. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Asra said, fishing a few coins out of his purse. “Can I get one for the road?” 

She took the money and grabbed him another bottle. “Trying to drown something, are we?” 

“I’m not paying you to ask questions,” Asra said. “I’m paying you to get me drunk.” He stood, with an unsteady, over-the-top bow, and left the tavern, humming to himself. 

He should go home, he knew. Apologize to Kealii. It had been a stupid argument, caused entirely by Asra. As much as he wanted to blame it on Kealii, he knew he couldn’t. It was his own fault for being unable to settle down. The idea of staying in one place scared him. Waking up every day in the same place, having neighbors that knew his name, always getting breakfast at that cute little bakery down the street. Routine. It made his skin crawl. 

And it was what Kealii wanted. A house, a family. Marriage. He had mentioned that more than once and Asra felt worse every time he shot it down. He didn’t understand why it mattered. What they had was perfect. There was so much left to see in the world. He wasn’t about to slow down now, no matter how tempting Kealii made it when he talked about how he imagined it. 

He hated change. Or, he couldn’t live without change. At this point he wasn’t sure which one it was. 

“Hm. Shit,” Asra sighed, realizing his problem. 

Oh well. He could deal with it in the morning, assuming he could find his way back to the troupe. He paused in his step, looking around and realizing he had no idea where he was. He laughed slightly and took a swig of wine, less concerned than he should have been. 

“There you are,” a voice said. 

Asra turned around and squinted at the figure approaching him down the alley. Her voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. 

“You’ve made yourself awfully difficult to find, I’ll admit.” 

“Sorry, who are you?” Asra asked, trying to focus on her as she got closer. It took him a moment to recognize her. The owner of the magic shop where he’d gotten his cards, all those years ago. He laughed. “What, you finally realize you should have charged me? Fine, you can have my gold, I don’t need it.” He started fumbling for his purse.

She laughed, stepping close to him. “I have come to collect,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “But you can keep your gold.” 

Asra frowned, his mind sluggish and reactions too slow to realize what she was doing until he felt a sharp pressure in his chest. He let out a breath, looking down as he felt warmth starting to soak into his shirt. 

“See ya on the other side,” she said, and winked, before ramming the knife upward, into his heart. She let him drop to the cobbled street and he stared up at the stars. They were going dark, or his eyes were closing, and he didn’t have the strength to fight it either way. 

And the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes. 

For a moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He was cold and… wet? The sky was the wrong color and his mind was muddled with memories of darkness. He flipped over and coughed up a mouthful of water, taking a deep, ragged breath. His fingers clenched in sand and gravel as he tried to push himself up. His arms gave out and he rested for a moment, his heart pounding unevenly in his ears. There were other people next to him, people he had never seen before, looking about like he felt. 

He heard footsteps. Boots crunching in the shingle. He shifted, looking up and meeting the gaze of a humanoid figure with horns and snakes on their face. A strangled noise escaped his throat reflexively, attracting their attention. 

“Where the hell am I?” Asra managed, voice scraping painfully out of his throat. 

They thought about that for a moment and then chuckled. 

“Hell.” 


End file.
